


common thievery

by super



Series: n.flying twitter fic dump [1]
Category: N.Flying (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super/pseuds/super
Summary: “Rewarding bad behaviour,” Seunghyub mutters to himself, and feels like he lost the war before it even started.





	common thievery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlitheBoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheBoa/gifts).



> for boa, who requested clothes/accessories sharing.

It starts with the small things at first: a scoop of protein powder from Seunghyub’s stash while he’s away on a modelling gig, a pair of socks and the odd scarf or two swiped from the top of the freshly-laundered pile in the living room. Hweseung takes without asking and grins without shame when he gets caught, winding Seunghyub’s scarf tighter around his own neck, face flushed pink from the cold and with the certainty of Seunghyub’s favouritism. He grabs a samgak kimbap off a shelf and has the gall to peer at Seunghyub expectantly.

 

It starts with protein powder and scarves but Seunghyub clearly made things worse by paying for Hweseung’s armful of snacks at the convenience store.

 

“Thnghks Sughyub hyngggg,” Hweseung says around a mouthful of hot bar as they step back into the winter cold.

 

“Rewarding bad behaviour,” Seunghyub mutters to himself, and feels like he lost the war before it even started.

 

Therefore when his necklace goes missing a couple of months later Seunghyub knows that he only has himself to blame.

 

“Hweseungie,” he yells over the chaos of the dressing room as they prep for their concert. “Give it back!”

 

Jaehyun looks up from tapping his drumsticks against his thighs, laser focus gone in a single blink. “He’s not here, hyung. Said he was going out for some air.”

 

Seunghyub finds him at craft services eating his way through a platter of mini sandwiches, which is the Hweseung equivalent of getting some air. And true enough, Seunghyub’s necklace is a gleaming silver beacon around Hweseung’s pale neck.

 

“You little thief,” Seunghyub says to the back of Hweseung’s head, grinning. He tugs at the chain at his nape and feels Hweseung jump.

 

 _“Oh—”_ Hweseung says. It’s a startled little noise. He turns around, eyes wide and rimmed with red and Seunghyub feels the smile slide right off his face.

 

“I—” Seunghyub says, stricken. Hweseung scrubs the back of his wrist across his face and stares at Seunghyub’s shoes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Hweseungah, are you okay?” 

 

“Sorry hyung,” Hweseung says, which is not an answer at all.

 

Seunghyub steps closer, ducking his head to meet Hweseung’s gaze. “What’s wrong? Is anyone bullying you? Because if it’s anyone in the crew I’ll —”

 

“— No!” Hweseung blurts, head snapping back up in a panic. He grabs Seunghyub’s arm as if to stop him from harassing a random crew member over nothing, and the pink in his ears has spread across his cheeks. “It’s not that.”

 

Seunghyub doesn’t understand. 

 

“It’s just — it’s just nerves, hyung. I’m sorry.”

 

_Ah._

 

Sometimes he forgets that Hweseung’s only been doing this for a couple of months.

 

Seunghyub huffs and slaps both his hands onto Hweseung’s cheeks, prompting a surprised yelp out of him. “That’s normal,” he says softly, squishing Hweseung’s face for good measure. “The first time we had to open for CNBLUE I threw up in the bathroom before we got onstage.”

 

Hweseung wrinkles his nose and leans harder into Seunghyub’s hands somehow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get nervous.”

 

“Not anymore,” Seunghyub shrugs. “I’m okay when I have all of you with me. We have your back too, you know.”

 

Hweseung sighs and closes his eyes. “I know that. I just don’t want to mess things up for all of you if I screw up.”

 

Seunghyub slides one hand into the soft mess of hair at Hweseung’s nape. He misses when it was a little longer. “Did you miss the part about us having your back? I’ll sing any part you mess up, so leave all the worrying to me: your leader, your _other_ vocalist, your favourite hyung—”

 

“Let’s not get too carried away,” Hweseung interrupts, but the tiny smile on his face feels like a victory anyway. “But thank you.”

 

Seunghyub hooks a finger in the chain around Hweseung’s neck and tugs. “You can keep this,” he says, and Hweseung’s brows lift, the brazen theft clearly forgotten in the face of anxiety. “You know, for luck or something.” 

 

Hweseung is standing awfully close, and the way he looks up at Seunghyub through his lashes does terrible, terrible things to his heart.

 

He cocks his head to the side. “Or something?”

 

Seunghyub coughs and steps back. “So I’ll be with you,” he mumbles, and immediately slaps his hands over his face, embarrassed for his own heart. This is Kwangjin-level sappy nonsense and Seunghyub is ashamed of himself.

 

Hweseung only laughs, high and bright and clear in the narrow backstage corridor as he grabs Seunghyub’s hands with his own and tugs them away from his face.

 

“Okay,” he says, giggling still, and then — _and t h e n_ — he kisses Seunghyub on the cheek, going on tiptoes and everything, the wide curve of his smile pressed into Seunghyub’s skin.

 

 _Oh,_ Seunghyub thinks.

 

“ _Oh,_ ” Seunghyub says, because it bears repeating.

 

A lot of things make sense now. A small corner of Seunghyub’s universe clicks into place. He sways helplessly into Hweseung’s space and is met halfway.

 

Outside, the hall begins to fill with fans.

 

“So this means I’m _definitely_ your favourite, right?”


End file.
